<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Draco Malfoy: Year One by writer_bird</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26312437">Draco Malfoy: Year One</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/writer_bird/pseuds/writer_bird'>writer_bird</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Lucius Malfoy's A+ Parenting, Malfoy Family-centric (Harry Potter), POV Draco Malfoy, Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), The Golden Trio Era (Harry Potter), smol draco malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:48:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26312437</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/writer_bird/pseuds/writer_bird</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone from Draco Malfoy's POV</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Downfall of the Dark Lord</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello this chapter is short but i promise later ones are longer</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A tall, cloaked figure whisked down the dark streets of London. His left forearm ached dully, and his mind occupied with what it could mean, he nearly ran into a group of similarly cloaked figures bustled out of a shop. Their faces were hidden, but the tall figure could clearly make out the words that they whispered between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Potters, that’s right, that’s what I heard-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-yes, their son, Harry-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The figure paused. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Potters</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He knew that name. If people on the streets were whispering about them… Gripping a long, slender stick in one hand, he ducked behind a wall beyond the sight of other people on the streets. A moment, later, that alleyway was deserted, as if the figure had never been there in the first place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The figure appeared on rolling hills outside a large mansion, and walked briskly up to the front gate and rapped on the door. There was a moment of silence, and the door opened. It was a tall woman, with flyaway black hair and dark lidded eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucius,” she said briskly. “What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The rumors,” said the figure, lowering his hood to reveal a head of sleek blonde hair. “Are they true?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman cocked her head briefly, and just then, she clapped a hand to left forearm and gasped, staggering back until her back ran into the door behind her. Lucius felt it too, a sudden searing pain, that quickly dulled to a low ache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman met Lucius’s eyes, and he saw a frantic fear in them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she whispered. “It can’t be so.” Her hands clutched her hair. “No! My lord!” Her voice rose to a wail, and she sank to her knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucius nodded slowly. The moment that they had been long fearing had come. The Dark Lord had fallen. “If you will excuse me, Bella,” said Lucius slowly. “I have a few arrangements that need to be made.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman rose from her knees and grabbed the collar of his cloak. “You’re going to flee, aren’t you?” she hissed, spittle flying into his face. “You’re going to run to those pigs - the ministry. Aren’t you? Well? Answer me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucius carefully disentangled himself from her gasp and stepped back. “I will do what I must to protect my wife and child, Bella, as you knew I would.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bella’s eyes were wide and crazed, but at the mention of Lucius’s wife and child she seemed to calm down a slight bit. “Yes,” she said, breathing heavily. “Protect them. But one day, the Dark Lord will rise again, and you will be lucky if he admits you back into his ranks. You and the boy, if he is honored enough. But mark my words,” she added. “I will remain faithful. I intend to seek him out now. He can’t be dead. He can’t!” With the final two words rising in a shriek, Bella grabbed a traveling cloak off the wall behind her and rushed past Lucius. The moment she was past the steps of the house she turned on the spot and vanished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucius rubbed his forearm one more time, then stepped off the steps and he too, vanished.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What will we do, Lucius?” His wife sat at the table, leaning forward so locks of her pale hair fell in front of her eyes. Her face seemed to have aged ten years since he had returned and told her of the news.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will do what we must,” said Lucius. He was holding his wand tightly, mind racing through the actions he had to take. “I will go to the ministry. Tonight. We must make them belief we were bewitched into following the Dark Lord. For Draco.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two sets of eyes traced along the table and to the stairs, where upstairs, their one year old was sleeping soundly in his cradle, unaware that his entire family’s fate was hanging in a precarious balance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” whispered Narcissa. “But hurry, Lucius. If we wait too long they will become suspicious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand,” said Lucius. He grasped his wife’s slender, pale hands with his own and leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. “I will return soon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Narcissa sat beside Draco’s cradle, staring at nothing in particular. The Dark Lord had fallen. She did not want to admit it to anyone, especially Lucius, but a small part of her was glad. She would be able to raise her Draco in a world that was not torn apart with war and death. He would grow up into a strong young man, and if they were all lucky, would never have to see death. She closed her eyes and pushed the images of pain and death out of her mind. Stroking her son’s tiny hand, she allowed a tiny smile to creep over her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Dark Lord had fallen.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A birthday breakfast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Draco Malfoy arrived in the dining hall of his family’s manor late one early June morning, enticed by the smell of cooking bacon. He found his parents sitting eating an early breakfast. He knew his father, Lucius Malfoy, a man very prominent in the wizarding world, had a few important meetings at the Ministry of Magic that morning, and he knew that his mother, Narcissa, was going to go shopping for some magic items they were running low on, at Diagon Alley. That would leave Draco alone at home with just the house elf for company - miserable company that it was, but Draco didn’t mind. Today was his birthday, and so his parents had told him that he could do whatever he wanted that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning mother, good morning father,” said Draco, sitting down at the table as the house elf scurried out and handed him a plate of breakfast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, Draco,” said his father, glancing up from his Daily Prophet. “I trust you slept well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, father,” said Draco. He tucked into his plate of sausage, eggs, bacon, and biscuits. He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Father, I have a request.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I come with you to the ministry meetings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucius paused, then carefully folded his Prophet on the table. “Now, Draco, I know that today is your birthday, but these meetings are-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said that I could do whatever I want today,” blurted out Draco quickly. His father raised one eyebrow at him, and he flushed red. “That is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I appreciate your interest in the family business,” said his father. “But you are too young. Perhaps when you are a little older.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, father,” said Draco, chastened. His mother laid a hand on his wrist and he looked up at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t I arrange for some of your friends to come over,” said Narcissa gently. “You can play with them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucius coughed, and Narcissa looked up at him. “Yes, Lucius?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think Draco is too old to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>playing </span>
  </em>
  <span>with other children,” he said. “He is, after all, eleven now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Narcissa gave her husband a frosty smile. “And yet he is too young to come to your ministry meetings.” She returned her gaze to Draco. “I will arrange for young Gregory and Vincent to come over. Would you like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco checked in with his feelings. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Would </span>
  </em>
  <span>he like that? On the one hand, he thought that Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were rather slow and dull-witted, and that could become tiresome, but on the other hand, their parents were good friends with his parents, and they were some of the only children he had grown up hanging around with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, mother, I would like that,” said Draco after a moment of contemplation. It would be good to strengthen his alliance with the two boys. After all, soon the three of them would be going to Hogwarts, and they would be helpful people to have on his side when he was sorted into Slytherin and undoubtedly had to scare away mudbloods and blood traitors, like his father always said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Narcissa slid her chair back and placed her napkin on the seat. “I will go send an owl, then. They should arrive around noon, Draco.” She bent and kissed Draco on the forehead before gliding out of the room, leaving Draco and his father at the long table. Lucius finished reading the Prophet while Draco ate a few more sausages, and then his father, too, stood up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will see you later, Draco,” he said. “When I return you may have your birthday present.” He took up his snake topped cane from where it had been leaning on the wall behind his chair, and exited the room as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was left alone in the dining hall. He mustered up a smile. He was eleven. Eleven meant he’d be going to Hogwarts soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco could already picture all his amazing adventures he would have at Hogwarts. He could hardly wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Diagon Alley</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Draco waited by the front doors of the manor while his father and mother straightened their robes and his mother snapped orders at the house elf to have dinner ready when they returned. In his hands, Draco held his long awaited letter from Hogwarts, coupled with his supply list.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The letter read:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>HOGWARTS SCHOOL</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>of </span>
  </em>
  <span>WITCHCRAFT </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>WIZARDRY</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dear Mr. Malfoy,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted</span>
</p><p>
  <span>at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please</span>
</p><p>
  <span>find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your sincerely,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minerva Mcgonagall,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deputy Headmistress.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Upon seeing the contents of the letter, Draco’s father had scoffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With Dumbledore as headmaster, that school is going to the dogs,” he’d said. After a look from Draco’s mother, he’d added, “but it still is the best wizardry school in the world. Make the right connections, Draco, and you’ll go far, despite the, ah, less than upstanding heads of faculty.” He’d shot a pointed look at the names “Albus Dumbledore” and “Minerva McGonagall.” He straightened his tie a little bit and said, “Severus - Professor Snape, to you - is the head of Slytherin House. You will have a fine time there with him to look out for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need anyone </span>
  <em>
    <span>looking </span>
  </em>
  <span>out for me, father,” Draco had said, but even his father’s over protectiveness couldn’t stifle his excitement at getting his Hogwarts letter. He had scanned over the supply list. “What? I’m not allowed to bring a broom?” He had been planning on buying a fabulous racing broom for his birthday. “That’s absolutely ludicrous, father,” he complained. “Why can’t I bring it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucius scoffed slightly. “First years aren’t allowed to be on Quidditch Teams. The pointless rule was implemented after some troublesome first years had an accident with broomsticks at midnight. That was the first year I was prefect,” he added, looking down at Draco. “You will become prefect, too, I’m sure of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, father,” said Draco excitedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, the family was heading out to Diagon Alley to get Draco all the things off his supply list.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure we shouldn’t use Floo Powder, dear?” asked Narcissa, pausing with her hand on the front door. Lucius just shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco is old enough to begin to learn what apparating feels like,” he said. “After all, he is going to Hogwarts, and he will eventually learn how to do it himself. He might as well get an advantage over the other students now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Narcissa nodded, and the three of them made their way outside. They crossed the long walk through their gardens, a few pure white peacocks skittering out of the way from where they’d been pecking at the ground. Draco turned his head and sneered at one of them - he was fairly certain it was the one that had pooped in his book the other day - and after a few moments they exited the wrought iron gates that marked the end of their manor, and the end of all the protective charms set up to defend the property. Now, they were able to apparate. Lucius held out his arms, and Narcissa took one and Draco took the other. Draco made sure his face was an impassive mask, despite the nervousness brewing in his stomach. Malfoys didn’t show their emotions on their faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucius looked at Draco. “Keep a firm grip,” he said. Draco nodded, biting his lower lip, and squeezed his father’s arm tighter. Lucius turned on the spot, and Draco and Narcissa were pulled alongside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco couldn’t breathe. It felt as if every part of him was being squeezed through a tube, compressed and compressed and compressed until he couldn’t move or breathe or even think…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he emerged on a sunlit street, still holding his father’s arm, and all the squeezing was gone. The sun beamed down on them, and they stood before a rundown pub titled The Leaky Cauldron.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This way,” Lucius said briskly. He led the way into the pub. Inside, it was dark and run down looking. Draco’s lip curled slightly and he stepped a tiny bit closer to his mother upon entrance, seeing the seedy looking people inside. They seemed like the type of people his parents always warned him about. The bartender looked up when the door opened and, seeing the Malfoys, nodded his head slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome, Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy, and I presume the young Mister Malfoy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re only here for Diagon Alley,” said Draco’s father, gazing around at the pub with an air of contempt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, of course,” the bartender said. “Go on ahead.” He gestured with one hand, and without further ado, Lucius led the way through the bar. They exited into a small, walled courtyard, almost entirely empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s this?” asked Draco. “This doesn’t look like Diagon Alley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco, Draco, never reveal ignorance aloud,” admonished his father. “If you do not know something, simply remain silent and watch. You don’t want to give others a hand above you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco scowled. He presumed his father had purposefully not told him what was going on just so he could show Draco that lesson.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucius stepped forward and tapped a brick on the wall with his wand, which he slid deftly out of his cane, replacing it a moment later. The brick quivered, and a hole appeared slowly, growing larger and larger until it became an archway, beyond which was a cobbled street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco recognized it the moment he stepped out onto the street. It was Diagon Alley. He’d been there before, flooing with his mother and father on shopping trips, he’d just never gone through the Leaky Cauldron entrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” he said. Trying to impress his parents, he added, “I presume we had to come this way because there are anti-apparition charms placed around the Alley?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite right, Draco,” said his father with an approving nod. Draco warmed with pride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, we must get to shopping,” said Draco’s mother briskly. “There will be many people in the shops, seeing as how all the Hogwarts letters should have arrived by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Let us split up,” said Draco’s father. He scanned the street, lined with shops. “Narcissa, would you like to go look at wands? Draco and I can get his robes and books.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s mother nodded and set off down the street, her heels clacking on the cobblestone. Draco and his father made their way down the street, stopping in front of two shops: Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions and Flourish and Blotts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will get your books,” said Draco’s father, taking Draco’s supply list. “You go get fitted for a few new sets of robes. You must look your best, going to Hogwarts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, father.” Draco made his way into the shop and was greeted by a squat witch, grinning obnoxiously at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, dear,” she said. “Here for Hogwarts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me </span>
  <em>
    <span>dear</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” snapped Draco quickly. “But yes, I am here for Hogwarts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A second witch came up and took him to the back of the shop. She gave him a set of robes, which he pulled on, and she began to pin them up so they would fit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco heard the door to the shop open again, and the squat witch greeting someone. A moment later, a boy who looked about Draco’s age was led over up to a stool next to Draco, and began to get fitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” said Draco. “Hogwarts, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” said the boy. Draco peered at him curiously. He didn’t look very impressive. He was skinny, and his hair was a messy mop of brown, covering most of his forehead. His voice had an edge of nervousness to it, as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,” said Draco. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.” That would be perfect, and he’d been able to impress all the other first years whose parents didn’t value them as much as Draco’s parents did. “Have </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>got your own broom?” he added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Play Quidditch at all?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>do - Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I Must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” said the other boy again. Draco was starting to get annoyed. Did this boy not know how to hold a proper conversation?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?” He couldn’t imagine being in Hufflepuff - the amount of dishonor that would bring on himself, and on his family! It would be the worst thing to ever happen to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm,” said the other boy. His brow was furrowed slightly, and Draco rolled his eyes. Either this boy was a buffoon, or… no, that was most likely. He was just a buffoon. Just then, Draco spotted a tall man out of the front window of the shop. He was immensely hairy, and he was gripping two large ice cream cones and gesturing at something inside the shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I say, look at that man!” exclaimed Draco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s Hagrid. He works at Hogwarts.” The boy smiled a little when he said this, as if he was proud of something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Draco was most definitely irritated. This boy refused to hold a proper conversation about actually interesting things, but then he decided to show Draco up with his knowledge of Hogwarts? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Never show your ignorance, Draco, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Draco heard his father’s voice saying inside his head. He gathered himself and made an effort to show this boy that he, too, was knowledgeable about Hogwarts. More knowledgeable than him, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’ve heard of him. He’s a sort of servant, isn’t he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s the gamekeeper,” the boy said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, exactly,” said Draco. He remembered now, his parents talking about the Hogwarts gamekeeper in disdainful tones. “I heard he’s sort of </span>
  <em>
    <span>savage</span>
  </em>
  <span> - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he’s brilliant,” said the other boy, his tone cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Do </span>
  </em>
  <span>you?” This boy clearly had no clue what was talking about. “Why is he with you? Where are your parents?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sorry,” said Draco. He shifted his feet a little bit, suddenly worried that he was consorting with a mudblood without knowing it. “But they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>our </span>
  </em>
  <span>kind, weren’t they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were a witch and wizard, if that’s what you mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Good. This boy might be a terrible conversationalist, but at least he was a Pureblooded one. “I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before the other boy could answer, the squat witch said, “That’s you done, my dear.” Looking somewhat relieved, the other boy hopped off his stool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” said Draco. He was running through the Pureblood families that he knew had children his age going to Hogwarts, but he couldn’t think of any that would look and behave this way, and whose parents were dead. The other boy left, leaving Draco to his musings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few moments later the witch finished Draco’s robes, and he climbed off the stool. He paid her out of his overflowing coin purse - filled to the brim with Galleons - and went to the shop next door to join his father at the book shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father,” asked Draco. “I met a most peculiar boy at Malkin’s. He said he was Pureblood, but that his parents were dead. Who do you think-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s enough, Draco,” his father said suddenly. Draco stilled, surprised. His father almost never interrupted him. He said it was not a good conversation skill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why, father?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucius shifted the books in his arms and stepped forward in the line. “We will talk more about this later, when I have had time to speak with your mother. Don’t ask me any more questions about this.” His tone made it clear that the conversation was over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who was that boy? Draco wondered. And why would mentioning him evoke such a strong response in his father?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A story told</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Draco lay on his bed, pouting. He didn’t understand why father and mother had to be so secretive. They never had been before, always being very open with their son. But today, something was different. Today, father had marched into the manor as if he was on a mission.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go to your room, Draco,” he had said, with barely a second look at his son. Draco had hesitated, surprised at the coldness in father’s voice. Father seemed to see that, because he glanced at his son, and his eyes softened. “I will explain later. Right now I need to talk to your mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nodded and darted off to his room. He passed the family’s house elf on the way there, the thing’s ears bandaged from when it ran into father a few days ago, spilling a basket of freshly laundered laundry all across the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now Draco was lying on his bed, knowing that his mother and father were having a highly interesting conversation without him. He knew it was interesting because why else would they be having it without him? They had always trusted him with overhearing important conversations before - talks about the ministry, talking about various wizarding families and how every year, more and more of them fell from grace, turning into blood traitors. So why were they keeping something from him now? And what was it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco raised himself up on his bed by his elbows. He didn’t think it was fair that they keep things from him. Why not employ some of that Slytherin cunning Father always said he had to go listen? Surely if he was found out they would just be proud of his cleverness, not angry that he had disobeyed them. Anger at disobedience was for Dobby, the house elf, not Draco. Never Draco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco tiptoed across the lushly carpeted floor of his room and pulled the door open a slight bit. Mother and Father were talking in the master bedroom, which was up the stairs and down the hall a little bit. Luckily, these were not a set of stairs that creaked, and Draco was able to tiptoe up them without making too much noise. He crept to the outside of the master bedroom and pressed his ear against the door. Mother and Father’s voices were muffled, but he could make out bits and pieces of what they were saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he indeed has dark magic-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wiser to ally with him-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what if the Dark Lord returns?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco pulled back from the door, wrinkling his nose in surprise. He had never heard that before. What was the Dark Lord? He pressed his ear closer to the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The ministry believes-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Narcissa.” This was Father’s voice. There was silence for a minute, and for a second Draco thought that perhaps they had lowered their voices even further, but then Narcissa spoke again, and Draco realized they had just been sitting in silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want that kind of shadow over Draco,” she said softly. “Why can we not just let him go to Hogwarts without knowing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Without knowing what, Mother? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Draco wanted to call, but he knew that he wasn’t supposed to be eavesdropping, not really, and he didn’t want to get in trouble. They would maybe take his broomstick away for a day or so if they got angry with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a decision…” and then Father paused. Draco tensed. Had he been detected? “Draco, come in here,” Father said. Draco winced. Yes, he had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco pushed the door to the master bedroom open to find Father and Mother sitting in two armchairs by the fireplace. Father was looking over his shoulder at the door, and when Draco’s face appeared around the door, Father sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco, do not forget your etiquette even though you may have been caught eavesdropping. Malfoys do not cower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, father,” Draco said, straightening up immediately and walking into the room, chin raised like he had seen Father do many times. “Sorry, father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Malfoys do not apologize,” Mother chided, but she was smiling at Draco, and she held out a hand to him. He went over and perched on the arm of the armchair next to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” he asked Mother and Father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Father sighed and looked at Mother. She nodded slightly, and Father looked back at Draco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s time you know,” he said. “This family’s history.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But Father, I have been learning the family history since I was eight,” Draco said, tilting his head. “I know all about the family. I know about Grandfather Abraxas and Grandfather Cygnus, and both of their family trees and ancestry, and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Draco,” Mother said softly. “Your father and I are speaking of something different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s mouth formed a silent </span>
  <em>
    <span>O</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Family history that was different from ancestry? Suddenly he remembered the overheard conversation. “Is this about… the Dark Lord?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Father’s mouth tightened, but he nodded. “Yes. It’s time you learned.” He leaned forward a little. “But Draco, you have to understand. Much of the wizarding world does not understand what we are about to tell you, so when people talk about the Dark Lord, you must keep these thoughts to yourself. At least for right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Father,” said Draco. He was bubbling with curiosity. What was this secret knowledge he was about to learn?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Years ago, when we were still in school, the Dark Lord was rising in power,” Father started. He had a serious look on his face much like the one he wore when he was speaking with high ranking ministry officials. “He was gathering followers to join him in a fight against those with less pure blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mudbloods and half bloods!” Draco said. He was proud that he knew what Father was referring to. He always heard mother and father referring to the blood status of people, and he had learned quickly all the different terms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, precisely,” Father said. “The Dark Lord wished to raise those with pure blood - like my family and your mother’s family - above those with lesser blood. He was gathering followers, and when I left Hogwarts, I joined his ranks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother, did you?” Draco asked. Mother shook her head slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not, but my sister - your Aunt Bellatrix - did, and my family was supportive of the Dark Lord’s aims.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Draco said. “Well, what happened? Where is the Dark Lord now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There were people who didn’t agree with the Dark Lord,” Father explained, a dark look crossing over his face. “It became a war. One side against the other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Draco breathed. “Did we win?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Draco,” Father said. “We did not win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s face fell. No wonder there was such a serious look on Father’s face.</span>
</p><p><span>“The Dark Lord was defeated by a boy named Harry Potter,” Father explained. “We don’t know how Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord, because he was just a baby at the time. Many of the Dark Lord’s followers suspect that he might have great potential for dark magic. Others think that it was just a fluke. Regardless, the Dark Lord died, and the other side won. Many followers of the Dark Lord were imprisoned unjustly, like your Aunt Bellatrix and Uncle Rodolphus.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Why weren’t you, Father? If you followed the Dark Lord?”</span></p><p>
  <span>Father’s face twisted into a grimace. “I went to the ministry, Draco, and I told them that I had been brainwashed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco had to suppress a noise of surprise that would not have been very Malfoy-like. “Father, why? Is that not undignified?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was,” Father admitted. “But it was more important that we maintained the dignity of the Malfoy family in the eyes of the wizarding world. It also ensured that we are in a good position to help the Dark Lord, should he ever return.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think he will return?” Draco asked. Mother placed one cool hand over his as if to reassure him. Why would she do that? He wasn’t frightened!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is a possibility,” Father said. “And if he does, we will be there for him.” He gave a small nod, indicating that that was the end of his story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Draco breathed. “Why were you talking about it just now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mother and I realized that with you going to Hogwarts soon, you will be meeting Harry Potter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s eyes widened. “Meeting Harry Potter? The one who killed the Dark Lord?” He clenched his fists. It was Harry Potter’s fault that Aunt Bellatrix and Uncle Rodolphus were in prison - Harry Potter’s fault that the only memories Draco had of his Aunt and Uncle were visiting them in that horrible, dark, sad place. “I will hex him,” Draco swore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Draco,” Mother said softly. She looked to Father, and Father nodded slightly to her before turning his gaze upon Draco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mother is right,” Father said. “We think that it would be best if you tried to befriend the boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Befriend him?” Draco yelped. He considered for a moment. “Is he pureblood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Father grimaced. “His mother and father were a witch and wizard, yes,” he said begrudgingly. “But his mother was a mudblood, so he is not pureblood like us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why would I befriend him?” Draco asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is the possibility that he has great dark magic potential,” Father said. “If he does, he will be a good ally to have. If he does not, then when the Dark Lord returns, if you are friends with the boy, we will be perfectly positioned to hand him to the Dark Lord. Do you understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Draco said, although in truth he didn’t. All that mattered, though, was that Mother and Father wanted him to befriend Harry Potter, and if they wanted it, he would do it, because he was a good son. “Yes, Father, I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Father placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder and smiled. “Good, son. Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Hogwarts Express</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Draco and his mother and father stood on Platform 9 ¾, looking around at all the other families. Father and Mother were both dressed up in formal robes, as they always were when they went on outings, and Draco was wearing his Hogwarts robes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some students wait and change on the train,” Father had said to Draco. “But that is ludicrous and demeaning. You are to be prepared; you will not change clothes in front of other children, especially ones you do not know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so Draco stood beside Mother and Father, watching the other students with their trunks and their owls, all bustling around. He scoffed at the ones who were not wearing their Hogwarts robes already - didn’t they know that they should be prepared?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Malfoys had arrived a little early, so they waited a few moments before Mr. and Mrs. Crabbe showed up, with their son, Vincent Crabbe. He nodded a greeting to Draco, who nodded back. Vincent was one of the pureblood families’ children who their parents always set up to have playdates together, but Draco didn’t mind. In his opinion, Crabbe was rather dull, but he always did what Draco said, which made for some entertaining games. The same was with Gregory Goyle, who showed up a few minutes later. Mr. Goyle and Mr. Crabbe both engaged in conversation with Father, while Mother greeted Mrs. Crabbe and Mrs. Goyle and exchanged pleasantries. Draco looked at Crabbe junior and Goyle junior.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re finally going to Hogwarts,” he said, more out of the desire to start a conversation to fill the space while the adults talked than out of any real desire to speak with the slow witted Crabbe and Goyle. Goyle nodded and Crabbe grunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gonna be in Slytherin soon,” he said. Draco nodded. The idea of being sorted into any house other than Slytherin repulsed him. Besides, Mother and Father had made it clear that Slytherin was the only real option for a proud Malfoy like himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mother and Father finished up their conversations, and soon it was time for Draco to say goodbye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mother embraced him first, her eyes slightly shiny, but Draco knew she would not cry in public. She had too much dignity for that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make me proud,” she whispered, a hand on the back of his head. “Write home lots, my dear Draco.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco hugged her back, hard. Then it was his Father’s turn. Father put one hand on either of Draco’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will do well,” he said. “And Draco, remember our talks.” He gave Draco a meaningful look, and Draco nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Father, I understand.” He would find Harry Potter, and he would befriend him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaving Mother and Father behind, Draco carried his trunk to the train, followed closely behind by Crabbe and Goyle. They entered the train and found an empty compartment to put their trunks in. The three of them sat down and were quiet for a minute. Draco looked out the window of the train compartment. He saw his mother dabbing at her eyes delicately with a handkerchief. Father was once again conversing with Mr. Crabbe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is going to be great,” Draco said, turning back to Crabbe and Goyle. “We’re going to rule the school, you’ll see. Professor Snape - he’s the head of Slytherin house - is an old family friend.” He was excited to meet the professor - and all of the teachers at Hogwarts, although his parents had warned him which ones to stay away from: blood traitors or mudblood sympathizers, or even oafs like the gamekeeper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crabbe grunted again. Goyle was invested in picking at something on the train seat. Draco shrugged a little. He wasn’t going to let their disinterest dissipate his excitement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An hour later, Draco left the train compartment to go find the sweets trolley. Mother and Father had given him a great deal of galleons to spend, and he wanted to spend at least some of them on sweets. On the way, though, he heard mutters that completely distracted him from sweets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry Potter-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Going to Hogwarts-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On the train-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Down in the compartment on the end-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco paused. This was what Father had been talking about. Harry Potter was on the train. Listening to more people, it seemed that everyone agreed that Harry Potter was in the compartment at the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco walked briskly back to his compartment. “Crabbe, Goyle,” he said. “Come with me. There’s someone I need to meet.” It would be a good idea to show that he already had friends, already had power, when introducing himself to Harry Potter. Surely Harry Potter, the boy who had defeated the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dark Lord</span>
  </em>
  <span>, would care about status and power just like Mother and Father had taught Draco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco, with Crabbe and Goyle pushing through people peering out of compartment doors to peer down at the compartment at the end, headed all the down to the end. Upon reaching the compartment, Draco slid the door open and stepped through, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. The sight that greeted him was a surprise. There were two boys in the compartment, one of which he recognized. It was the thin, scraggly boy from Madam Malkins! His hair was just as messy as it had been at Madam Malkins, and he looked up when Draco stepped in. The other boy in the compartment was gangly, with red hair and a long nose and freckles. Sweets were spread across the seats between the two boys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it true?” Draco asked. He looked at the boy with brown hair - surely the redhead was not Harry Potter - and continued, “They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment. So it’s you, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” the brown haired boy said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry Potter </span>
  </em>
  <span>said. He was looking curiously behind Draco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Draco said, without looking behind him. “This is Crabbe and Goyle. And my name’s Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” He watched Potter’s face for the flicker of recognition Draco’s surname usually prompted, but there was none. The redhead, however, reacted. He sniggered a little. Draco turned to him instantly, on the defensive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think my name’s funny, do you?” asked Draco. His gaze flicked over the redhead quickly, remembering the stories Mother and Father had told him. “No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.” The redhead’s face flushed a spectacular red, but Draco wasn’t concerned with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Weasley’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>feelings. He turned back to Potter. “You’ll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” He offered his hand to Potter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter stared coolly back at Draco. Draco wondered why he hadn’t accepted immediately when Potter said, “I think I can tell who are the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Draco couldn’t quite believe he had heard those words coming out of Potter’s mouth. Didn’t Potter know who the Malfoys were? Didn’t he know that they were the best, most respected, most ancient and noble pureblood families? Draco felt his face getting hot, just slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d be careful if I were you, Potter,” he said, trying to force his anger and confusion down. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Malfoys don’t show strong emotions</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Unless you’re a bit politer you’ll go the same way as your parents. They didn’t know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it’ll rub off on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Weasley flushed even more red. “Say that again,” he snapped, standing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wanted to laugh at the boy. Didn’t he know not to show intense anger? It made it so easy to see weaknesses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re going to fight us, are you?” Draco said, smirking a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unless you get out now.” This was Potter. He was keeping more calm than Weasley, but it was still obvious he was angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was enjoying himself. These two were so easy to make angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we don’t feel like leaving, do we, boys?” he said, looking at the sweets on the train seats. He was about to say that he was hungry for sweets, but then he realized that it would maybe appear to Weasley and Potter as though Draco couldn’t afford sweets, which wasn’t the case; he just hadn’t bought any yet. Either way, he changed track at the last second and said, “We’ve eaten all our food and you still seem to have some.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Goyle grinned and reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to the Weasley - the Weasley leapt forward angrily, but before he’d so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a shout, leaping backwards. He was waving his hand, and Draco was surprised to see a rat dangling off of Goyle’s finger, hanging on by its teeth. Draco backed away, almost running into Crabbe. Goyle, yelping, swung the rat around and around. A few swings and the rat flew off his finger and hit the window. Draco used this distraction to slip out of the compartment with Crabbe and Goyle hot on his heels. He didn’t want to risk being attacked by any rat!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back in their compartment, Goyle nursing his bitten finger, Draco sank back into his seat and thought hard. Father would be most disappointed to find that Harry Potter had rejected Draco’s offer of friendship - a generous offer, too, considering that Potter was not from a very upstanding house like the Malfoys. But, Draco supposed, Potter would see how wrong he was in time, and come to Draco and accept his offer of friendship. Draco continued to muse about it to himself for the rest of the train ride, thinking about Potter and Weasley and random attack rats, and wondering what his first year at Hogwarts was going to be like.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Sorting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A voice echoed through the train some time later. “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco got up slowly, looking at Goyle and Crabbe. “I presume the house elves will be taking our luggage up to the school,” he said importantly, adjusting his cloak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crabbe and Goyle followed Draco out of the train. Out on the platform was a large, hulking man. He was shouting, “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” He craned his neck as Draco looked and peered through the crowd of first years. “All right there, Harry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco scowled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s Hagrid,” he said to Crabbe and Goyle. “Mother and father told me about him. He’s a sort of </span>
  <em>
    <span>servant</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crabbe and Goyle both laughed little, grunting laughs. They followed Draco as they followed the group of first years, staying on the edge as they followed the large man down a steep, narrow path. It was quite dark, and after a minute Draco stepped aside to let Crabbe go ahead of him, with the pretense of politeness. It was really so if there was a sudden drop in the path, Crabbe would fall first and Draco would have a moment of warning. Draco heard someone in the crowd of first years - were they </span>
  <em>
    <span>crying? </span>
  </em>
  <span>How utterly pathetic. Other than the crying first year, the group was mostly quiet, following the big man down the path.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ye’ all get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” the big man said at one point. “Jus’ round this bend here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just then the path opened up, revealing a huge black lake stretching out before them. On the other side was a mountain, and on top of that was a huge castle. Its towers stretched into the dark sky speckled with stars, and windows sparkled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first years all gasped and “oooooh”ed. Draco resisted the urge to </span>
  <em>
    <span>ooh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, knowing what his parents would say about that. He did feel the awe inside him, though, gazing at that magnificent school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No more’n four to a boat!” the big man shouted. Draco climbed slowly into one, and Crabbe and Goyle followed. A short boy with rather large ears joined them without asking if he could, almost tripping and face planting on the bottom of the boat. Draco just gave him a brief scornful look before turning back to face the front of the boat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone in?” the big man shouted. “Right then -- FORWARD!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boats slid forward across the lake. The castle grew nearer and nearer. At one point the boats reached the cliff and everyone had to bend their heads as they went through a dark tunnel. Draco scrunched his nose at the dank smell in the tunnel, and it was a relief when they were able to climb out of the boats onto the rocky shore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco looked around at the other first years. A lot of them were looking around with barely concealed - or not at all concealed - awe, and he shook his head a little. Didn’t they know better than to act so surprised and impressed?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Never show that anything impresses you, Draco</span>
  </em>
  <span>, was something Father said quite often.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oy, you there!” the big man shouted, straightening up from a boat he’d been looking in. “Is this your toad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tearful boy wiped his eyes with his hand and cried out, “Trevor!” taking the toad from the big man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shook his head again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The big man led the group of first years up a passageway and out right near the castle. Up stone steps, and stopped in front of the front doors. The big man did one final check before knocking on the door three times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swung open and out came a black haired witch wearing green robes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Slytherin? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Draco wondered. She had a stern face, but he thought that if she was a prominent Slytherin professor Father would have told him about her, or Draco would have met her at one of Father’s important meetings. More likely she was an unimportant professor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” the big man said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco drew back a little. Father had mentioned Professor McGonagall. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Going the same way as old Dumbledore, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he had said. He’d mentioned other things, like how she wasn’t a good one to get on the bad side, but ultimately she was just as foolish as the headmaster. She was the head of Gryffindor house, which told Draco pretty much everything he needed to know about her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Hagrid,” McGonagall said. “I will take them from here.” She led the way into the entrance hall - it was about six times the size of the entrance hall in Malfoy Manor. The first years went into a small, empty chamber off of the hall. Draco shrank into himself a little away from the other students when they had to crowd together. He wasn’t a fan of physical contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>McGonagall turned to face the group. “Welcome to Hogwarts,” she said crisply. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco looked at Crabbe and Goyle, smirking a little. They all knew what house they would be in. The same house all their families had been in for generations. Slytherin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco grinned even more at that. Father had told him about how Slytherin house had won the house cup for years and years in a row.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>McGonagall continued. "The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her eyes swept the group, and Draco knew that she was studying the tearful toad boy’s mussed clothes, and she looked at Weasley, too. Draco resisted the urge to scoff. He knew he looked immaculate, as Malfoys always should.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>　　"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　She left. Immediately, whispers broke out among the first years, wondering about how they would be sorted into their houses. Of course, Draco knew exactly how they would be sorted. Mother and Father had prepared him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just then, a bunch of people screamed. Ghosts glided through the back wall, arguing. Draco immediately recognized the fat monk one as the house ghost of Hufflepuff - Father had told him about the Fat Friar too, speaking in derisive tones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>　 "Forgive and forget,” the Fat Friar was saying. Typical of a Hufflepuff ghost. “I say, we ought to give him a second chance-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost -- I say, what are you all doing here?" This ghost Draco recognized too. Its ruff and tights allowed him to identify Nearly Headless Nick - the Gryffindor ghost. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　"New students!" said the Fat Friar, speaking up when none of the students did. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　Draco didn’t deign to respond to the stupid fat ghost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" the ghost said. "My old house, you know." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco rolled his eyes. Just then, McGonagall returned through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Move along now,” she said. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.” She instructed the first years into a line and directed them to follow her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked out of the chamber, across the hall, and through large double doors into what Draco knew was the Great Hall. Thousands of candles lit the room, floating in midair like candles that Father and Mother used during formal dinners at home. There were four long tables, one for each house. At the top of the hall was the teachers’ table. The first years lined up facing the other students, in front of the teachers’ table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stood straight and dignified, surrounded by other first years. Soon he would be joining Slytherin, the house where he was destined to be great. He was not nervous. Not at all. Malfoys did not get nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>McGonagall - why did the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gryffindor </span>
  </em>
  <span>head of house get to be in charge of everything, Draco wondered for a moment, before remember that she was also deputy headmistress - placed a stool in front of the first years, on top of which she put what Draco knew was the sorting hat. A rip opened in the hat, and it began to sing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　But don't judge on what you see, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　I'll eat myself if you can find </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　A smarter hat than me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　You can keep your bowlers black, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　Your top hats sleek and tall, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　And I can cap them all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　There's nothing hidden in your head </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　The Sorting Hat can't see, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　So try me on and I will tell you </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　Where you ought to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　You might belong in Gryffindor, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　Where dwell the brave at heart, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart; </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　You might belong in Hufflepuff, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　Where they are just and loyal, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　Those patient Hufflepuffis are true And unafraid of toil; </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　if you've a ready mind, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　 Where those of wit and learning, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　Will always find their kind; </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　Or perhaps in Slytherin </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　You'll make your real friends, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　Those cunning folk use any means </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　To achieve their ends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　So put me on! Don't be afraid! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　And don't get in a flap! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　You're in safe hands (though I have none) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　For I'm a Thinking Cap!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>　　It finished its song and the hall burst into applause. Draco shifted from one foot to the other, just for a moment. He almost wanted to just get the sorting over with and go join the Slytherin table right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>McGonagall unrolled a roll of parchment and began to read names from it. The first girl sorted was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hufflepuff</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A pity, since she was an Abbott girl. The Abbotts were one of the sacred-twenty eight: the twenty-eight most pureblood families. She was a Hufflepuff, though, so her family couldn’t have been that respectable. The next girl, too, was a Hufflepuff.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is everyone a weak minded fool? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Draco wondered to himself. But then someone was sorted into Ravenclaw, the second most respectable Hogwarts house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t pay much attention to any of the names, until he recognized one name. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Millicent Bulstrode</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The Bulstrodes were another of the sacred twenty-eight. At least Millicent was going the right way. Draco would have to speak with her and befriend her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking of befriending people reminded him of his failure to befriend the Potter boy, though, and Draco sank back into himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crabbe and Goyle were both sorted into Slytherin, with no surprise to Draco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few people were sorted into Gryffindor, including a busy haired girl with rather large teeth and to Draco’s surprise, the tearful toad boy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Draco’s name was called, he strolled up to the stool, full of the confidence of his family’s legacy.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I expect you know what to do</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Draco thought to the hat as it was lowered towards his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I see</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the hat said. That was all it said, and for a split second Draco thought he heard disappointment in the hat’s voice - but that was impossible; it was an inanimate object. The hat shouted out, “SLYTHERIN!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco got up from the stool, smirking, and went to the Slytherin table to join Crabbe and Goyle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Watching the rest of the sorting, Draco waited for Potter’s sorting. He didn’t want to care, but if Potter was sorted into Slytherin… then Draco would have a second chance to befriend him and deliver on his promise to Father and Mother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>McGonagall called out Potter’s name and the messy haired boy went up to the stool and slipped the hat over his head among whispers from the four long tables.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was silence for a moment. Draco saw Potter’s lips moving, whispering something. And then the hat shouted,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>GRYFFINDOR!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s heart sank, just a little bit. Potter wasn’t going to be a respectable wizard after all. The Gryffindor table was erupting in cheers, but the Slytherins all around Draco just exchanged disgusted looks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the sorting was somewhat of a blur to Draco. The Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor - no surprise there - and  he noticed when a Zabini was sorted into Slytherin because Mother and Father had mentioned that family before, saying that they had a son Draco’s age.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like that, the sorting was over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy,” a voice said. Draco turned from looking at the sorting hat, which McGonagall was taking away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a taller, older Slytherin boy, and he was leaning forward. “Malfoy, as in Lucius Malfoy’s son?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco puffed up his chest a little. “Yes, I am Draco Malfoy. And you are…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flint,” the boy said. “Marcus Flint. Welcome to Slytherin. You’ll fit in nicely here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Flint. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Another one of the sacred twenty-eight. Father would be proud of Draco for the connections he was making already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Draco said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I know, </span>
  </em>
  <span>was what he didn’t say.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Welcome to Slytherin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After the feast, Dumbledore made an announcement about different rules in Hogwarts. Draco listened avidly, noting where Dumbledore said was out of bounds. The forbidden forest, and the third floor corridor. There wasn’t much else that Dumbledore said that was interesting, and when he got everyone to sing, Draco didn’t take part. It was ridiculous, and probably demeaning, everyone singing or chanting the words from the Hogwarts song at the end of the feast. After it, the foolish old man pretended to be crying at the song - </span>
  <em>
    <span>how ludicrous</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Draco thought - and then sent everyone off to bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Slytherin prefects - Draco didn’t recognize the boy’s last name, but the girl was Lillian Selwyn, also one of the twenty-eight. That was no surprise to Draco. Of course a girl from noble pure blood family such as that would be a Slytherin prefect - the slytherin prefects led the first years down a hall and down a flight of stairs. They turned a few corners and went down a few more flights. Draco kept track of the route in his mind to ensure he wouldn’t get lost and have to depend on someone for directions next time he was trying to find the Slytherin common room. The prefects finally stopped in front of a blank wall. By that point they were in the bowels of the castle, in the dungeons, and the corridors were dark and illuminated only by torchlight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flaskermot,” Lillian Selwyn said, and the blank wall melted into the entrance to a passageway. She turned to the first years. “This is the entrance to the Slytherin common room. The password changes every fortnight; it is posted in the common room when it does so, so do not forget to check the notice board when you leave the common room on the days it changes, else you will be locked out of the common room, and you won’t have anyone to blame for it but yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nodded. He wouldn’t forget.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lillian led the way down the passageway, the first years following and the other prefect taking the rear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The passageway came out into a large dungeon-like room, with green lamps illuminating the space and cozy green armchairs and black sofas dotted around the room. Windows at the far end were huge, taking up almost the entire wall - where there weren’t windows there were dark drapes - and through it Draco could see straight into the lake. Murky green water was outside, and as he watched, transfixed, a few fish drifted past. Dotting the stone walls were tapestries of famous Slytherins doing great deeds. The common room was grand, if a bit cold. Draco felt right at home here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amazing,” one of the other first years behind him breathed. Blaise Zabini, perhaps. “Are there really mermaids in the lake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lillian Selwyn smiled an enigmatic smile. “That’s up to you to find out, isn’t it?” she said. She turned and pointed to two doors at the far end of the common room. “There you’ll see the boys dormitories and the girls dormitories. Your trunks will have been brought up from the train already, so go find your rooms. And congratulations on being sorted into the best Hogwarts house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco headed for the door to the boys’ dormitory, Crabbe and Goyle following close behind. Two other Slytherin first year boys followed: Draco recognized one as Blaise Zabini, and the other he recalled from the sorting being named Theodore Nott. Nott was another of the sacred twenty-eight. That meant out of his roommates, two of them were important sacred pureblood families, and the other two were Crabbe and Goyle, both of which his parents had already approved of. Draco nodded slowly. He might not have made friends with Potter, but at least he had roommates he knew his parents would approve of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dormitory room Draco found for the first years had five large four poster beds - dark, dark wood - with rich green drapes and green covers. The windows at the far end showed the lake just like the common room had, although the windows were considerably smaller than those in the common room. Trunks were sitting at the foot of each bed, and Draco saw his trunk at the base of the farthest bed, accompanied with the cage holding Draco’s eagle owl, Aldibain, who was sleeping. Draco planned to send Mother and Father a letter the next day, but if he was being honest with himself  - which he always tried to be - he was tired and wanted to go to sleep at the current moment. Tomorrow he would speak with Nott and Zabini and form a good relationship with them, but tonight he wanted to go to bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next morning Draco went down to breakfast with Crabbe and Goyle and sat at the Slytherin table, talking with Nott and Zabini. They seemed to have much in common, and they were soon able to have conversations about their families, and Quidditch, and workings of the ministry. Nott’s father worked in the ministry, and he knew of Draco’s father, and they spoke about it a little. When Draco asked Zabini if his father worked in the ministry as well, Zabini scowled and said nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Psst,” someone whispered next to Draco. He turned and saw a first year Slytherin girl with a rather squarish face and chin length hair. He remembered her from the sorting as Pansy Parkinson - another pureblood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” Draco said, looking at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His father is dead,” Parkinson whispered to Draco. Draco raised his eyebrows. He was surprised that he didn’t know that, in fact. “No one knows how he died,” Parkinson continued. “But his mother and he are rich now because of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was surprised that Parkinson was whispering about Zabini in his hearing - that was a quite rude thing to do to a fellow Slytherin, and a pureblood one at that, and Draco glanced at Zabini to see his reaction. Zabini was engaged in conversation with Nott, and seemed to not notice the conversation that Draco and Pansy were having.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Good, Draco thought. And then he saw Zabini’s eyes flick over to him, and Dracio realized that Zabini was just feigning ignorance. Draco nodded slightly. A good tactic. It didn’t embarrass the people having the whispered conversation, and it allowed Zabini to maintain his dignity without having to address the people being rude. At the same time, Zabini allowed himself to look haughty so the people who were whispering about him knew that they were being rude. Draco filed that away in his head as a good tactic to intimidate people, although perhaps when he used it he wouldn’t feign ignorance, but he would just pretend that he did not care. He decided to practice a cold stare when he was alone. Those could be quite intimidating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shortly after breakfast was over, Professor Snape began sweeping through the table, handing out schedules to the first years. Draco had met him a few times before when he had visited Father throughout the years, and Snape had always expressed a - if not fondness, then at least not dislike - of Draco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Sir,” Draco said, when Professor Snape reached him. Snape gave him a quick once-over, and a nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco,” Professor Snape said. “I trust you are fitting in well in your new house?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes Sir,” Draco said eagerly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Professor Snape said. “I am mailing a letter to your father this evening, and I will make sure to tell him that you have lived up to your family name.” He gave a rather oily smile and swept away, black cloak billowing out behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Parkinson said immediately, turning wide eyes on Draco. “You know the head of house already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Draco said, feeling a swell of pride. “He is a family friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s amazing,” Parkinson said. “Your family must be very important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know his family is important,” Zabini cut in irritably. “He’s a Malfoy. Surely you know of the Malfoys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parkinson shot Zabini an annoyed look, and Draco had the feeling she knew perfectly well who the Malfoys were, and she had just been complimenting him to get in his good books. Another good technique for making powerful friends. Draco decided that he liked Parkinson, despite her bluntness. He was still deciding on Zabini and Nott.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Draco said, standing up and studying his new schedule. “The first class we have is history of magic. That should be interesting, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zabini scoffed. “Not hardly,” he said. “Mother tells me it’s absolutely dull.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The six of them - Draco, Zabini, Parkinson, Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle - gathered their things and left the Great Hall together. Draco felt a swell of pride when some students from other houses shot a look at their pack, some looking curious, others looking impressed - they must have recognized him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if they didn’t recognize him, they would. Draco would make sure of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>